The Light From A Winter's Fire
by EbonAskis
Summary: Years after Rumpelstiltskin's return from the war he is still paying the price for his cowardice. Somewhere across tine and space a young woman is facing her own demons from the past. The two are brought together during a snowstorm and discover the healing power the other can offer. AU, Rumple/OC The 1st chapter is rated T just to be safe for a scene of violence.
1. Chapter 1

**The Light From A Winter's Fire**

_Years after Rumplestiltskin's return from the war he continues to pay the price for his cowardice. In another land a woman faces her own demons. The two are brought together during a snowstorm and discover each has the power to heal old wounds._

**Chapter 1**

_Another northern winter_…_yyaaaaayyyyy_. She ran her fingers through loose curls and sighed watching the morning snow fall fast and heavy across the lawn. _Probably going to be snowed in again…_ she looked on, mind wandering as drifts grew and shrank outside the window. The yard was wide and uneven; leading into few rows of pathetic looking grape vines before casting down eventually into the street. The gnarled oak trees leaned tiredly over, like giants searching for a lost contact while the snow piled on their limbs.  
Turning away, she took in her parent's house. _ This is my house…now...I guess… _ The wood floors were cool despite the heavy winterizing the couple had done in the 5o years they had lived in the farmhouse. The wind howled around the corners and still reached icy fingers under the doors at every opportunity. Echoes of a lifetime spent in every room nestled in every crevice of the antique furniture, mixed with the dust settled on the books, the mantles, the tabletops. Today, in weak morning light they seemed more like ghosts, rattling about looking for their absent companions.  
"Well, Horatio, let's check on the soup" the Great Dane whuffed and followed her into the kitchen. She still could not sleep well, still expecting her pager to go off despite her leave of absence, waking every few hours expecting to be called for some trauma case, some car accident. The last few years at the hospital had eaten her life, consumed every moment, all her energy. Now, on a leave of absence to wrap up loose ends after her last parent's death, she found she could not sit still.  
_'"You have abandoned me!" Her mother always cut to the quick when she threw her fits. She saved her moments of clarity for guilt trips. "You care more about that damn hospital that you do about your own parents! Where were you when your father died? Huh? Where you gonna be when I die?' The cane hit the wall behind her. __" Mom, I was in an exam when Dad died.. that wasn't my fault." She ducked as a handful of m&m's flew at her. "You could have come home to visit when he got sick! You just didn't want to face him, you coward. You think being a doctor and fixing all those people is going to change that?" The tears began to run down her face as her mother threw herself down on the couch, suddenly quiet. "Now I need you and you tell me you have to work.. you won't take the time to look after your own mother...You'll be sorry when I die... then you will HAVE to take time away from your precious hospital...you'll see__." She sobbed, arthritic hands clutching at the cane. "What did I ever do to drive my own daughter away? She will fix everyone but she won't fix me" "Mom... I can't quit this job, you need someone who can help you to stay here...I am not trained for what you have...Even if I could stay here with you I couldn't help with what you need!" The pleading never made any difference, eventually her mother's sobs quieted and the faraway look crept back into her face. The months passed quickly as she faded.  
_ She wiped the moisture from her eyes with her sweater sleeves and drew a shaky breath, poking at the vegetables bobbing in the broth absent-mindedly.

"He's dead because of YOU, you filthy coward!" The man's beard was flecked with spittle and ale, his breath was sour and hot on the smaller man's face as he wriggled in his grasp, tears streaming down his pinched face. "Please, Iven...I'm sorry about your son!" He gagged as a blow knocked his gut into his throat. "Sorry? Sorry doesn't bring him back, Rumplestiltskin! You worthless piece of dung!" Rumplestiltskin coward as the man drew back to hit him again, the blood on his face obscuring his view of the blacksmith's feet. " Please…" he whimpered his gut and shoulder afire with the spreading bruises. Suddenly the beating stopped, footsteps approached and a new voice spoke, thick with drink.  
"Hello Brother, I see you found the cretin. I brought our cousins with, for they too have lost their children this day." The men crowded in as the spinner was hauled to his feet. Cold blue eyes bored into his as the new voice spoke again. "We know how much you like to run, Spindleshanks…run now… we will give you a head start, before we come after you." With a malicious grin, he thrust the walking stick into the smaller man's shaking hands… "GO."  
Rumplestiltskin hesitated, "I don't understand..." He leaned heavily on the staff swaying.  
"I'm going to count to five… then me and my cousins here are going to find you, make you pay for every death on your head… One…" Their chortles followed him as Rumplestilskin turned with a chocked sound of panic and limped away as fast as he could into the woods.

In a few short hours the snow had completely swallowed the street and had begin to pile up against the door. The television crackled and warned the buildup would not stop for days, to stay inside, to prepare for the blizzard that was fast approaching. "Good thing we never travel light, huh Horatio?" She took in the loaded cabinet, crossing to check the fridge then the stock pot bubbling on the stove.  
Pausing to button up the oversized cable sweater over her faded jeans before pulling on the heavy coat, she padded to the garage door. "Horatio, let's get some wood!" Horatio padded over, allowing her to attach the sled to his harness before following her to the long stacked piles of wood they had built the week before. As she loaded the sled with dry wood she calculated how many days of fire she would have if the storm grew worse. _Where did Mom keep the generator…? _ "Inside Horatio!" She opened the door for the dog and ventured back out to dig up the worse-case-scenario supplies, a knot forming ominously in her stomach as she listened to the banshee scream of the wind outside.

It didn't take long for the men to catch up to their limping prey. The closest felled him with a kick to the back. Crawling away Rumplestiltskin cried out when the yank on his tunic ripped the fabric and dragged him back, clutching at the ground pleading. They used the open shirt as a tether, taking turns batting him back and forth among them until it fell apart. Mouth forming broken words, nauseated from pain he cried out as they let him drop to his knees. They let him try to crawl away again before grabbing the bad leg savagely twisting as he screamed again and again, begging with short ragged breaths for forgiveness. He felt their rough hands on his body, yanking down his soiled trousers to expose more vulnerable flesh. Sobs racking his bruised chest, he flailed out at them, his last attempt to free himself before feeling himself slip away from consciousness. Blue light shimmered at the edge of his vision and he felt himself falling, down into the leaves, the scent of blood, bowel, and dirt. The air grew cold; the voices began to sound far away "The damn bean! It fell out of my pocket! The bastard ripped my pocket!" their alarmed cries faded into vacuum on then there was nothing. The light filled his head and the world went blank as Rumplestiltskin lost consciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Light From A Winter's Fire**

_Years after Rumplestiltskin's return from the war he continues to pay the price for his cowardice. In another land a woman faces her own demons. The two are brought together during a snowstorm and discover each has the power to heal old wounds._

**Chapter 2**

She had given up trying to open the door to shovel. _ Not like anyone is going to make it up to the door _anyway, she snorted. The drifts had climbed dup to lick at the edge of the window; the vines in the yard were thoroughly buried. Overnight the snow had doubles it's efforts and the two-story house seemed to sink into the drifts, the trees looking like top-heavy saplings, the doors covered up to the knobs, the veranda and deck swaddled in white.  
A movement in the yard got her attention; it looked like a miniature twister. Nose pressed against the glass her mouth opened as a blue light began to shine from the funnel. "You've got to be shitting me..." She squinted and shifted to watch the little tornado grow, shine then fade out with a 'Whump'. "What the-" a man had fallen out of the flurry. He lay there in the bank at the foot of a tree like a battered bloody rag doll. The snow immediately tinged crimson around his face. "Oh my God... oh my God... What the fuck?" she breathed as she renewed her efforts to open the front door. Having no luck she moved to the window to look again. "Really?" _I can't leave him out there...oh God what if he is dead? Did he just come out of that thing? Wait...Is he naked? Oh God please don't be naked!_ She ran to the window that faced out on the veranda and yanked out the screen. The window heaved open with a spray of snow. Frantic she jerked on her jacket and pushed the nearest chair in front of the window. Armed with a throw from the couch and Horatio's sled she waded into the drifts.

When she reached him he wasn't moving, his clenched hands were turning blue and the blood on his face and bare back had begun to crystallize. She couldn't stop a laugh of pure relief when he groaned as she tucked the blanket under him, checking for spinal damage before pulling him onto the sled. "Hold on.. You're gonna be ok, hold on.." the man was strangely light, she was able to lift him through the window tugging at the blanket like a sling. The smell hit her once they were inside; waste, sweat, livestock, filth_. Gloves, must find gloves._ Is he _homeless? Where did he come from? How does he not have an infection already? _His clothes were in tatters, the skin below a rainbow of angry welts and frostbite._ Warm, warm got to get him warm. Where has he been? This fabric looks handmade. What is all over him? He is filthy!"  
_ She shooed Horatio away and dragged the man to the bathroom throwing toilet paper and washcloths asunder until she reached the box in the back labeled "First Aid". _Bless you mom, the eternal nurse._ Pulling on gloves she began to but away what was left of the disgusting fabric, and lowered the man into the water. She did her best to debride the wounds, having difficulty maneuvering him around in the sudsy water. Color began to return to his lips and he began to shiver violently. "Here Horatio" padding the sled with towels she pulled him from the dark water and patted him dry before lifting him onto the bed.  
He moaned and continued to shake as she quickly dressed his wounds, taking inventory of the damage. _Minor frostbite on hands, face, multiple lacerations, bruising, possible sprained ankle and wrist, broken ribs..possible internal bleeding..definite shock._ She paused when she saw the damaged leg. _This looks old..crush injury? _The lower calf muscle was a tight knot of useless fiber. The skin surrounding was scarred and bubbled leading down to a large mass of malformed bone tissue on top of the foot. "What happened to you?" she asked the semiconscious man, his face contorting in pain as his split lips worked to form soundless language."Shhhh…You're ok." His wounds treated she packed pillows around him to keep him from moving. Every blanket quilt, comforter and throw she could find she piled on top of him, gently holding it around him, sliding under just a layer away to lend her heat. _Please stabilize, please…Please! _He turned toward her warmth, breathing shallow and quick. She stayed as still a possible, willing him to pull through, demanding his survival.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Light From A Winter's Fire**

_Years after Rumplestiltskin's return from the war he continues to pay the price for his cowardice. In another land a woman faces her own demons. The two are brought together during a snowstorm and discover each has the power to heal old wounds._

**Chapter 3**

The afternoon brought absolute silence to the house, save for the quiet whistle of air in and out of a swollen nose. She woke with a start, recognizing the sound as not her own. She sifted out from under the mountain of covers and stripped off the bulky sweater, flapping the shirt underneath in an effort to cool the sweat coating her body. Watching the man now in the bright light, she moved to the side of the bed, settling as lightly as possible and leaning over to check his pulse. It was thready and his skin was clammy to the touch. With a jerk his eyes flew open and a muffled cry escaped his lips as he struggled to inch away from her, yelping at the pain the movement caused. "Easy, easy, hey.. you're ok, it's alright. I'm not going to hurt you". His eyes were the color of coffee, almond-shaped and wide with panic. _ He isn't processing a word I am saying…_He trembled as she spoke, keeping her tone rhythmic and soft repeating herself until his face relaxed and he fell back to sleep.

_ There has to be something here that will fit him…_ It took her half an hour to locate the box of her brother's old clothes upstairs. She smiled as she found the treasure trove of button downs and boxers. Her brother was lean and lanky, and tall, with a smile that never left his eyes and a tendency to take nothing in life seriously; a polar opposite to his quiet twin sister. She had judged the man to be about her height, _short by my family standards¸_ she thought with a wry smile. At 5' 6" she was the dwarf among giants, making up for what she lacked in height in lean muscle. _ I guess we will just cuff the pants for now. _ Selecting the clothing in the best condition added it to the worn set of scrubs she had brought with her, and hurried back down to her patient.  
He had more color in his face now his breathing was more regular. She held a wrist against his forehead and brushed the hair from his face. _Who are you? _He looked like he had worked hard his entire life, tan and deeply lined; his body was lean to the point of emaciation. She reached for the bowel of hot water and gauze to change the dressing on his face and hands. At her touch he started awake, his jerky movement knocking the bowel into her chest, causing her to jump up and hiss. He stared at her, his hands and arms curling up to cover his chest and neck. She started to sit back down, pausing at the soft whimper the gesture elicited from him. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to startle you..." He remained frozen, waiting, taught with apprehension .She decided to finish sitting and left her hands in front of her, palms down. It took conscious effort not to frown as he flinched away from her. He swallowed and licked his chapped lips... eyes darting all over the room then back to her again; "who...who are you?" His hoarse voice was soft, tenor with an accent that curled every word.  
He jumped at her sigh of relief _Oh thank God, he speaks English._"My name is Aria. I'm a doctor…" She cocked her head, watching him as he absorbed the information, mouthing the word. "You were unconscious in my yard, in the snow. Do you...know how you got there?" One hand crept up his neck and he shifted, looking down "… No." He winced as he flexed his wrist. "I'm…my name is..Rumplestilstkin." He waited, expectantly as she started at him "Is that really your name? The one your parents gave you? Is it German?" Trepidation gave way to confusion as he frowned and shook his head. "I was named after my father...I don't know what German is." They sat in perplexed silence for a few beats until he tensed, head swiveling toward her…"I'm naked!". Embarrassment, fear, shame, and alarm traveled across his face as he clutched at the sheets, ducking his head.  
"Yes, I'm sorry!" She started dumbly "You were.." she searched for the least offensive word, "filthy when I found you.. your clothes were in shreds" She pressed on, he words tumbling over each other "I had to, I mean I needed to clean you up, to see your wounds and dress them. You were going into shock and the cold had already damaged the skin on your hands and I needed to warm you up so I put you in a bath and washed you the best I could and then I needed to get you warm so I just brought you to the bed and did my best to get you warm and .." she trailed off, realizing this was information overload for the man as he gaped at her, fear and embarrassment still fighting for dominance in his expression, blanket still pulled to his chest. "..and I haven't been able to check you or try to dress you without panicking you so I've just let you sleep." She let her hands fall to her lap and slowly stood up, suddenly feeling too close to him on the bed. "I have clothes for you... I know they aren't much… they were my brothers. _What is so unnerving about this man? I'm a doctor goddammit. Patients aren't suppose to be this hard to talk to. _Her cynical brain answered her _most of the patients are unconscious, that probably helps. This guy doesn't even seem to know what a doctor is._  
He sat there, heard lowered, not meeting her eyes. After a few moments his shoulders began to shake and she realized he was weeping. "hey now, it's ok…" She lighted near him again and he peered at her through his fingers. "It's… you.. you don't know me?" _I don't know many renaissance hobos._ Aria shook her head "should I?". This somehow made him cry harder. "No...but you saved me… and you don't know me..I ..I can't pay you…" The idea embarrassed her and she shook her head emphatically "I wouldn't be much of a doctor if I only cared for people I know that could pay me. You needed help… How could I not help you?" His lip trembled as he looked at her, eyes wet, hands dropping to cover his grimace. "I don't understand" It came out as a whisper and his fingers moved to rest on his mouth. He looked down, letting the hair cover his face, breaths becoming regular again. "There isn't anything to understand" she reached out to touch his arm and bent to pick up the water bowl. " You should eat…are you hungry? I have soup." He nodded, lost in thought. It looked like his eyes were becoming heavy again as he swayed toward the pillows.  
When she returned with the soup he had already slipped into sleep again, hands still resting on his collarbone. "What kind of a name is "Rumplestiltskin?" she asked Horatio, who just rested his head on his paws and sighed.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Light From A Winter's Fire**

_Years after Rumplestiltskin's return from the war he continues to pay the price for his cowardice. In another land a woman faces her own demons. The two are brought together during a snowstorm and discover each has the power to heal old wounds._

**Chapter 4**

Aria put herself to work preparing the fireplaces in the bedroom and living room for evening fires. The power had been flicking on an off through the afternoon, threatening to leave them without heat and light. _Rumplestiltskin…what does he mean 'I don't know what German is'? Where did he come from?_ The questions tumbled around in her head as she showered, gathered bedclothes, put out candles and filled the generator. The man slept, seemingly impervious to the noise.  
She gathered up the fallen gauze from earlier, carrying it around the room with her as she checked the candles and fire once more, kicking the discarded blankets out of her way. _How did mom do this for 30 years? I'm bushed and it's been like.. half a day. Maybe the nurses are right…it's easier to be a doctor…_She jumped when her gaze met with that of her patient, awake and watching her quietly. They looked at each other for silent moments, before she spoke; "um… we might loose power tonight."  
He waited a few beats before answering her, expression dark, concerned "…we…this…this isn't the frontlands… is it?" He nodded at the digital clock on the dresser and the light in the corner "These… aren't from my world…are they?" He bit his lip and looked down at his long fingers curling and uncurling around the blanket hem. "Where am I?…how did you get me here?..Why… Why am I…?" He looked out at her from behind the curtain of hair again, submission in every fiber of his posture.  
'My world' the phrase drowned out the rest of his questions and she just stared at him, perplexed. "What do you mean ,'my world'?... you don't think you are from this world? Not from Earth?" She couldn't help the note of cynicism that crept into the question. The man stayed submissive "This land is called "earth?" he flinched when she scoffed. "No, the PLANET is earth" she put the gauze down heavily on the dresser and stood with her arms crossed. "Ok.. where do you think you came from, that isn't here?" _Great..he's schizophrenic…I brought a schizophrenic into my house, in a blizzard…in my bed._ Her defensiveness did not go unnoticed, his hands twisted the blanket and his voice trembled as his eyes began darting about again. "I... I livein a village, in the fiefdom of the dukes..in the frontlands. I'm a spinner...I make yarn. It's… there is war with the Ogres…I …I.." He faltered, seeing her expression of doubt and his eyes grew wet again. "Please… I swear..I'm not lying. I'm sorry..I'm sor-" she cut him off. "ogres?.. like.. magic and monsters?" He nodded, gathering blanket up against his exposed chest, fighting frustrated tears. "Magic and monsters…are part of everyday … I remember a blue light before I …" The memory brought palpable pain to his face and he went silent.  
"A blue light?" she shook her hair, processing the memory of the early morning. "I saw a little tornado.. that had blue light.. it looked like you came out of it. That's.. that's impossible though. There is no such thing as magic." She would freely admit to being a sci-fi geek, even admit to considering the existence of other life, other universes but THIS? "There has to be some explanation, something, maybe …a " she threw up her hands "wormhole or something…this sounds.." she ate the last word, realizing that weather she believed it or not, "Rumplestiltskin" clearly did. "I am going to get soup… you need food, and you need water… we will table this for now…" she turned and stalked out of the bedroom.  
_Ok so.. let's say there is another universe/plane of existence/whatever…and somehow he ended up here…how does he get back? Why am I even considering this? I mean this has to be a load of bullshit. Right? _ The clothes he had been wearing, the smell came back to her as she ladled the hot broth. _But if it is bullshit... what about everything else? Is it any less crazy than anything else physics could come up with? Is it stupid to assume our existence is the only one..close-minded maybe..but magic?_ She paused to remember he father's explanation of "magic": "Magic is everything we see that science hasn't explained yet."_ Pretty artsy for an engineer, Dad. _ A yelp from the bedroom derailed her train of thought and she sprinted toward the sound.  
He was cowering away from Horatio, using his good leg to push himself towards the center of the bed. The friendly animal was leaning on the side of the bed, paws resting on the mattress, his favorite chew toy between him and his new friend. "Please… " he looked at her, wild eyed "what does it want?"  
"Oh goodness, I'm so sorry, he..." She stifled a giggle and smiled at him, trying to look reassuring; " …he wants you to play fetch. This is Horatio, my dog. He's harmless. He is just overfriendly." She kneeled and called to her companion, rolling him onto his belly and taking the toy from his mouth. "See? Just a big softie…do you not have dogs where you come from?" The man didn't move, still staring at the great dane. "They aren't that big where I come from…and they don't play "fetch"". She patted the dogs rump and shooed him from the room, sobering her smile as the man moved back towards the pillows doing his best to stay covered. She made quick tracks back to the kitchen, trying to ignore that she was about to eat dinner with a man who was from another world.

Horatio watched them sullenly from the doorway, resting his head on the makeshift barrier Aria created out of books. She lit the fire and sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed watching her patient with a bemused smile as he nosily ate his soup with gusto. After a few minutes he paused, suddenly aware of his spectacle. "I've never tasted anything like this..." he admitted sheepishly. She said nothing, content to study the scene, mind still whirring away at the puzzle in front of her. She nudged her bowel towards him when he finished, "I ate while you were sleeping." He ducked his head, a sad smile pulled at his mouth and he murmured, more to the soup than to her. " You aren't used to eating with another person…" His eyes slowly rose to her shocked face, shoulders rising to his ears. "I just... you seem like.." he set the bowl down and self consciously raked a hand through his hair. "never mind" he mumbled, focusing on the soup again.  
_He 's right. But then again no wedding ring is a pretty good sign that a women eats alone._ She watched his hands while he ate. She could see despite the scrapes that they were calloused, long thing fingers ending in nails bitten short. They reminded her of her grandfather's hands as he played piano, meticulous and deft; hands that could work for hours at his push-pedal Singer sewing machine, and still find the energy to play for his grandchildren in the evenings. She shook her head, trying to dislodge the foggy music creeping into her head. His voice cut into her thoughts, hesitant and lilted. "Thank you." The bruises on his face and arms were starting to show deeper color. "How is the pain? I have ibuprophen…if you aren't allergic." _Why does he get so emotional every time I treat him like a human being?_ His face stayed taught as he gulped and avoided her gaze. "I…I'm ok." She watched him shrink down into the bedding . _Machismo? No... he's afraid of being a pain. _ "I doubt that, with broken ribs and a menagerie of bumps and bruises… but since you are up" she pushed the pile of clothes toward him. "I'm sure you want to get dressed." His face flared up in crimson, mortification pinching his mouth and eyes. She jumped up, suddenly awkward. "I'll, be in the next room, if you need…" she gestured towards the clothes, "anything".  
Closing the door behind her she suddenly felt exhausted. _With that leg you know it's unlikely he will be able to get pants on alone._ Her logical mind prodded at her. "Shut up brain, or I'll poke you with a q-tip." She muttered, willing the flame in her cheeks to go out. _So much easier when they are unconscious. This is why I went into surgery. _ She made it halfway to the living room window before she heard the shout of surprise and pain, followed by the heavy clatter of a body hitting wood floor. "Rumplestiltskin?" The name was cumbersome out loud. "Are you alright?" Outside the door, she listened, knocking when she got no response. _I hope he didn't hit his head. _ She took a breath and slowly opened the door.  
He was yanking desperately at the khakis, face twisted in consternation and pain as they caught on the foot, pushing on the sprained ankle. His chest bare in the open shirt, angry blues, purples and reds coving the skin. The pile had fallen beside him on the floor, the boxers untouched. _ Going commando? Oh God do I have to explain underwear?_ He froze as she stuck her head in, a cry of startled shame exploding out of him and he grabbed the pile of clothes and pulled them over himself. He turned his face away hands white knuckled on the mess of fabric, his adam's apple bobbing franticly. "I'm sorry, I thought you had hurt yourself." She closed the door on the concerned dog and stood with her back to him. "Can I help? I... I know it is horribly awkward… but it's nothing I haven't seen before." She listened to the uneven breathing as he fought for control over his frustrated tears. " I know you are embarrassed, but there is nothing shameful about this… " A violent blast of air informed her he thought otherwise. She waited, facing the wall until he finally spoke in a voice shaking with emotion. " I.. I can't.. I can't get it..." He gave up and sat, still clutching the bundle on his lap, looking around the room for something to stare at. She moved towards him, keeping her eyes on his face, picking up the boxers on the way to kneel next to him. "May I suggest you start with these? It's what men wear under their trousers."  
Aria was amazed at the range of emotion the man's dark eyes could display, his heavy lashes beating back tears. "My leg… you shouldn't have to look at it." He stared at her intently, chewing his bottom lip. "I'm a doctor, I've seen worse, trust me." She moved to let a hand hover over the cuff of the troublesome khakis. " Can I help you with this?" Despite his nod of assent he jumped when her hand moved the cloth covering his calves. He silently handed her the shorts, focusing on the ceiling as she gently pushed them up to his thighs. _He's straight up trembling._ She repositioned herself to help him stand. "Rumplestiltskin, you can lean on me if you want to finish." His hands shook as he jerked up the elastic, a stray tear splashing on her shoulder as he turned his face towards her, pivoting himself towards the bed. "Let me know when you want to try the pants again." She was surprised to realize she was absentmindedly buttoning up his shirt, even more taken aback by the expression on his face—a mixture of awe, shame, gratitude, fear. "Thank you" it was a whisper, cut short when she handed him the Kleenex to dap his face. She didn't have any words left, sensing his need to recover his dignity she busied herself with the fire. His accent was thick with bitterness when he spoke again, "I'm sorry for the trouble I am causing you… I use a staff...normally.. when I am walking or standing. They…I think it was lost when I came here" His expression was dark, in the shadow from the fire she could only see his mouth clearly. "They?" He nodded, hugging himself. _Not going to hear this story today I guess. _  
"Right now you need to rest. You need to stay off of your feet anyway." Aria picked the clothes off the floor, folding them back up before placing them on the dresser. "I'll look for something for you to use when you want to get out of bed." He looked faraway, hands moving across the comforter then back again. "Why are you doing this?" His expression was broken, a single unbidden tear slid down his cheek "No one has shown me the kindness that you have today.. Aria." She didn't know what to say, the concept of denying him any of the things that had been offered was disturbing. She looked at him face unreadable with the fire behind her. "The fault is theirs. Everyone deserves to be treated like a human being." He seemed to crumble inwards, a second tear joining the first. "…not everyone". His murmur was barely audible over the crackle of the embers.  
"What did you do that you don't think you deserve that?" _You don't seem like you could hurt a fly. _ He closed his eyes, letting the stream of salt water run freely refusing to open them again. "I'm a coward." His tenor voice was flat, low with self –loathing. He laid down, his back to her the end of the conversation clearly marked. He didn't respond when she picked herself off the ground, drawing the sheet up over his shoulder. "It's late…I'll be on the couch, just in the next room if you need me."  
Stepping over the pile of books, she turned off the living room light, letting the fire guide her towards the couch. She had scarcely sat when sleep overtook her. The book in her hand fell to the floor, the fire, following suit lowered its light. Aria drifted in and out of sleep broken by faraway shrieks, faces of the past running through her dreams.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Light From A Winter's Fire**

_Years after Rumplestiltskin's return from the war he continues to pay the price for his cowardice. In another land a woman faces her own demons. The two are brought together during a snowstorm and discover each has the power to heal old wounds._

**Chapter 5**

The next day passed quickly. Late morning was accompanied by Horatio's whine and the persistent _ding_ of her answering machine, informing her that the power had gone out during the night. Her examination of her patient revealed a mild fever and especially angry swelling of the bad leg's ankle in addition to a complete loss of appetite for conversation. Giving up on trying to draw the man out of his shell for the day, she focused on preparation for the storm scheduled to hit that night. The afternoon passed quickly between chopping wood and shoveling a small area for Horatio to do his business, followed by the unpacking of her colman stove and filling of water jugs. It was evening by the time she had showered and wandered into the bedroom, her mother's cane on her arm as she ported dinner on a tray.  
"How are you feeling?" The man jumped at the sound of her voice. _Goddammit, he was looking right at me._ She squished the frustration of not being gentle enough to avoid scaring him every time she interacted with him. He offered a mumbled " Fine" and turned his attention back towards the fire. "Rumplestiltskin." She approached the bed offering the hand carved mahogany stick. "This... was my mothers". The flash of derision on his face startled her, he looked up at her, mistrust setting his jaw. "Are you playing with me?" _What? What the F-? _ Fighting more frustration she squared her stance and dropped her hands to her sides. She didn't know what o say, so she started back at him, waiting for an explanation as he gestured at her. "Your kindness… your food, your clothes…your…mother's cane. " His voice broke on the last syllable and his hands fluttered back to his chest, steepling hs fingers on his sternum. "You have no reason to do any of this… I… I told you I'm a coward… _the _coward… you didn't even respond." He paused, his voice shaking as he stammered " are.. are you playing a game with me? I don't know why… why else" As she shifted weight from one foot to the other, brow knitting tighter and tighter he trailed off.  
She lost the battle for control and finally snapped at him. "What part of everyone deserves to be treated like a human being didn't you think I meant last night?" He recoiled at the anger in her words but she couldn't stop herself. " I don't understand why you are here. I don't KNOW why you are here. All I know is that you ARE, you need help, and you would have died if you would have been left out there." Despite her distance from the bed he cringed at her point towards the window. She softened, holding her elbows tightly. "I'm sorry. I… I would really like to know why you don't think you deserve kindness…or..why you don't think others can give it." The guilt in his eyes was overwhelming and she watched her feet, wiggling her toes in defeat. " Look, I know someone must have done something horrible to you. I can see you have been through a lot…I'm not them." Rubbing her aching temples she handed him the bowl of soup and left. _I couldn't help my mother when she needed it. This one won't let me help him without a fight .Dammed if you do…._ Her pacing in the hall was interrupted by a tenor voice, "Aria?" he was hesitant to draw her attention back to him. When she leaned in the doorway he faltered, licking chapped lips before speaking again "I'm sorry. Please…f…please forgive me." _Everyone has baggage, Rumplestiltskin. _ Aria offered a small smile and nodded, retreating to the next room. She read on the couch, listening to the whistle of his breath fade into soft snores. Checking the fires before stretching out, she found sleep took her quickly again in the low light.

_"Who are you? You stay away form me!" Her mother grasped the cane angrily, waving it at her assumed intruder. "Mom, it's me, Aria…we just spoke on the phone two hours ago." The odler woman waved the stick at her. "Aria is just a baby, you whore, get out of my house! When Allen get's here he'll throw you out of your tush! Go on, GET!" She backed away, dodging the cane thrusts. "Dad's gone mom, he died five years ago, remember? Remember? The funeral?" Aria exhaled at the sight of her brothers silhouette in the doorway. "Mom? Are you ok?" He gathered he up as she clug to him "Oh Allen, this horrible girl won't leave. Allen, make her leave." He guided her back to her chair as Aria followed with her medication. "Mom that's Clay, your son." He shushed her and continue to stroke their mother's hair until she quieted, staring off into space. "I keep telling you just let her roll with it…she doesn't beeive you when you say Dad's dead anyway." His long arm rested on her shoulder and she snorted "And what about when she waits for him, gets upset he hasn't come home and dials his old office number on the phone, looking for him…then what do I tell her?" They huddled in the kitchen, speaking in low tones. "Aria, I've been thinking.. this whole switching off weekend thing isn't going to work soon… I mean, you can't keep switching your call schedule and I can't put off going to Brazil much longer, my grant will get revoked. I need to complete my research…I think it's time we put her in a place where someone can watch her 24/7" _  
The dream memory was shattered by the sound of whimpers, followed by breathy cries. Aria shot upright, nearly tumbling off the couch with the motion. Dazed and alarmed, it took her a full minute to orient herself to the bedroom, processing the noise.  
"No!" He whined, thrashing in the damp sheets "Please.. don't! I...I'm sorry, please!" The last word wrenched from his lips in a ragged moan "_Stop!" _She finally reached the bed, clicking on the reading lamp over his head and perching beside him. His face was drawn tight in a mess of pinched skin. _ Anguish._ she catalogued as she stroked his hair. The musky scent of his fear mixed with the ointment on his wounds, the softener in his shirt, it invaded her sinuses as she caught a flailing arm it came towards her face. "Shhh, it's alright" not releasing the first, she leaned across him to free the trapped arm from the sheets. "Shhh, Rumplest—"  
He jerked awake with a whimper, recoiling away from her, trembling. She released his arm and kept her voice low "It was just a dream, you're safe". When his eyes stayed wide and glassy exhaustion nibbled at the corners of her patience. "You're alright, you're safe" She bent down and freed his tangled legs. He stayed silent, breathing raggedly as she drew the sheet up to his waist, noting where he had twisted off a button in his fit. Her gaze returned to his face. The lines had deepened between his brows, his mouth had gone slack. Shame and trepidation shook his voice when he spoke, still not meeting her eyes.  
"I woke you." The words sounded flat, deflated. His hand curled up to rest near his chin "I'm sorry". _I wonder how many time a day he says that._ He finally met her gaze, mouth curling into a grimace . His eyes were so dark she couldn't see his pupils in the yellow light. He whimpered quietly when she moved to run an hand down his arm, pausing when he shrunk away from the touch reflexively, palpable agony and shame burning off of him. _Goddammit it's ok. _Exasperation tinged her voice "You're alright." She bit her lip and paused, gazing at the man tensed and waiting, his own lip twitching nervously.  
"I'm sorry" he repeated, his second hand flying up to join the other when she shifted weight. As she gazed at him he mind was a flurry of emotions; compassion, frustration, exhaustion, empathy and finally warmth. _What would it take to make you believe I won't hurt you?_ She wanted to hug him, but feared he would jump right out of his skin. She exhaled, noting his small twitch at the noise and leaned towards him, gently placing a hand on either side of his face. "I'm not going to hurt you " she whispered, letting her lips brush his forehead, inwardly wincing at the start he gave at her touch. She drew back, still holding his face " I will not ever hurt you, hit you, punish you….you…are…safe." Aria let go, watching his eyes , bright and wet, wide and framed perfectly by the high arch of his eyebrows. He stared at her, mouth open, words absent and finally stopped trembling.  
She sat back, confusion, embarrassment, frustration at her lack of forethought for the action wrestled inside. _WHAT was THAT_? Accepting his lack of speech as preferable to any alternative she backed away from him towards the door. "I'll just …leave this light on and go back to the couch." He continued to gape at her as she pressed on "I'm sorry if I ..overstepped a boundary or..scared you or.. you know..offended you or anything." _ The room seems so much bigger now that I can't wait to get out of it._ Her medical training cringed at the ethics laws she just broke. _ I am such an ass._ She nearly didn't hear the whisper that followed her as she made her retreat :"Thank you…"  
Aria did her best to be asleep. As she tossed and turned. He mind replayed his voice, the fear, the apologies, her own lack of preparedness for his constant trepidation. _Irresponsible._ Her logical mind chided, _he's a patient._ She considered this, _ not really though.. I mean..more like a houseguest with trauma._ Logic answered her again _ he may need the boundary of professionalism. Maybe he needs the stability of a professional relationship._ She pushed the thought away _ It would probably feel more like reaction. I'm the one who needs boundaries. Let's be realistic.. _ "none of this is realistic" she muttered "the man fell out of the sky for chrissakes." Giving up, she pulled on her sweater and padded towards the kitchen. As she passed his room she paused, startling herself as his head turned to face her.  
The said nothing, mutually expressionless, each considering the other. "…tea?" she offered, finally "It helps me sleep…" The ghost of a smile shimmered across his face. "yeah.. I'll make a pot." She murmured, shuffling towards the kitchen, his smile fixed in her mind.


	6. Chapter 6

**The Light From A Winter's Fire**

_Years after Rumplestiltskin's return from the war he continues to pay the price for his cowardice. In another land a woman faces her own demons. The two are brought together during a snowstorm and discover each has the power to heal old wounds._

**Chapter 6**

Morning came late, lagging on the heels of the tardy night that proceeded. Aria buried her face in her hands, rubbing at her temples and tamping down the urge to groan out loud. _Uuuggghhh. Bite me morning. Just friggin bite me._ She paused, listening for the sound of movement in the neighboring room, the memory of the night trickling into her mind. _ "The nightmares…?" she didn't know how to approach the elephant in the room. "More like memories." He didn't offer anything else, wrapping long fingers around the delicate floral pattern on the cup._ She flipped onto her stomach, ducking down behind the pillow._. And that's why I work in surgery, I'm no shrink._ She winced, thinking of the pained silence that had followed her half-asked question, how it settled in permanence until she left. _ What happened to him? _ The need for an answer dug it's claws in a little bit further with every encounter. She sighed and slowly peeked over the edge of the couch, dropping down hurriedly, realizing he was very awake. _What are you doing?_ _Are you five? Go face the man…like a man._ Horatio watched her, tail thumping in amusement_. Don't judge me dog; you do the same thing when you see birds in the yard._ Growling inwardly she peered over again. He was holding one of the photographs from her headboard, staring intently at every detail. Reaching to tuck his hair behind an ear, he set it down in his lap and sat back, lost in thought.  
Giving up on reconnaissance she got her robe on and padded towards the room, Horatio in tow. Hearing her approach he leapt into action, trying in vain to replace the picture before she reached the threshold. She said nothing, bemused as he opened his mouth to speak; then shut it on a second thought, flustered. He looked askance at her, waiting for a reaction. Finally she smiled, "It's a photograph. That's me and my brother Clay. We're twins." She held out her hand for the picture, pulling it closer to squint at it. The old kitchen was piled with boxes, sprinkled with the occasional beer can and textbook. Her beanpole brother was leaning on her shoulder, wavy black hair sticking out in every direction, his oversized grin scrunching up eyes the same heather grey as her. She was laughing, pushing at his abdomen with her elbow, a volume of Doyle in one hand, the other pulling thick curls out of her face. "I think we are about 19 here… we were moving into our first apartment… "She started to laugh, shaking her head "He called his room 'The Shag Pad'". Rumplestiltskin looked on, clearly mystified "… what did you call yours?" She handed him the photo, "'The Fortress of Solitude'" _He has no clue what you are referencing, idiot. "_It's from a TV show…um…never mind. We were kids and it was a gross apartment."  
"Where is your brother now?" He looked down at his shirt, unconsciously fingering the seams. "Was this his?" She brushed away the irritation that welled up at the answer. "Oh, he's off in Brazil somewhere, shagging the local women and digging up super ancient broken pottery. God only knows when he is coming back." The bitterness in her voice drew an apprehensive stare from him. "he's the 'fun twin'" she wriggled her fingers making air quotes. "I'm the 'serious one' and yes, that was his shirt. He left a bunch of his old stuff here when we went to grad school. Mom couldn't bring herself to get rid of it, thankfully" She gestured at him, "You have a closet at your disposal once I find the other boxes, lucky guy". He humor was lost on him.  
"You seem angry at him." He ducked his head, clearly unsure of the boundaries of the conversation. "I can't really stay angry at him, he's my other half. He's just… so irresponsible sometimes. It's like he never grew up. He doesn't take anything seriously… "She shook her head, throwing her hands in the air. " But I love the idiot, he's my brother, I just wish he were here to… to help take care of things." _But it's my turn this time I guess._ Rumplestiltskin was silent, watching Horatio travel back and forth between them, begging for some attention. He finally dangled a tentative hand over the side of the bed, jumping when the big dog eagerly licked it, pushing his head under the palm shamelessly.  
Aria smiled turned away from him to harvest clothes from the bureau, "I am going to take a shower. Then I'll make some breakfast, ok?" She stopped in the doorway, clutching the bundle to her chest. "I.. could run you a bath.. if you want. I know you probably might want one…" She didn't know what to make of the mixture of embarrassment and confusion on his face. "I know you might need help... and …" she sighed, watching him wrestle with an answer looking at the dog like he might offer advice. "Just let me know." _Aaaaaawwwwkward!_ A high pitched voice shrieked in her head as she beat a hasty retreat to the bathroom on the other side of the house.


	7. Chapter 7

**The Light From A Winter's Fire**

_Years after Rumplestiltskin's return from the war he continues to pay the price for his cowardice. In another land a woman faces her own demons. The two are brought together during a snowstorm and discover each has the power to heal old wounds._

**Chapter 7**

It was late in the afternoon before Rumplestiltskin worked up the courage to answer her offer about the bath. She let him do his best to get undressed while she ran the bubbliest bath she could muster, cheeks burning nonstop. "I think if we can get you in safely you can do-"yes," he interjected, expression determined, ears pink. She found it difficult to find a good place to stare as she waited for him to finish wrestling the clothes off, leaving him panting on the side of the bed in his boxers. He seemed worn out enough by the effort it took to get undressed to be less mortified by his state of undress in front of her.  
She offered him a towel to cover himself with, "Can I take these bandages off you now? I will put fresh dressings on when you are finished." He nodded, the blush covering the exposed skin from his ears to his chest. Aria paused when she reached out for the largest of the bandages, realizing that the man before her was trembling. "Are you cold? I can get another towel..." He stared straight ahead, his hands climbing up his chest to rest under his chin, "No." He flinched when she touched him, his tremble deepening as she checked his wounds, working her way up to his face, where her patchwork ended. When the last strip was removed he finally met her gaze, his mouth parting in apprehension as he stared. _ Good Lord those eyes._ They were a luminous mahogany brown with long lashes contrasting the flecks of gold around the edges. _So much pain… so much fear. _ She felt a sudden pang of pity for the wounded man waiting under her fingers. Her shift in expression did not go unnoticed and he quickly found a new color of crimson to flush to. "Alright" she mumbled, "alright".  
She was thankful that it was easy to get him to the tub. With his back to her she could see the evidence of a life without enough nourishment; his ribs were all too familiar with the skin. Across the lower back were the scars left by severe lashings. She bit her lip and turned away. "I'll be in the next room, if you need me." His answer was a rush of air that sounded vaguely like "thank you."  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He called her in after a time, and she stifled a laugh as she walked in. He had gathered all the bubbles around him like a protective sheath, still blushing as she did her best not to giggle. "Your hair is dry…" _I really, REALLY want the art of proper cleanliness to be something he has where he came from…oh please don't make me teach boxers and hygiene… _He shifted uncomfortably, and she unhooked the shower wand, stretching it down. "With the blood and everything you will want to keep your hair clean. It will help keep your cuts safe." He nodded, holding the wand awkwardly, clearly unsure as to what to do with it. "Can I… would you like me to show you?" He nodded again so she pulled off her sweater and rolled up her sleeves. She watched his eyes close as the warm water rushed over his scalp, his expression of timid pleasure bringing a smile to her lips. She babbled as she worked in shampoo, rinsed, conditioned, explaining what it was, what it did, how much she loved the scent, anything to keep him in that small moment of contentment , his mind free from the demons he harbored inside. "I don't know what I would do if I couldn't wash my hair" she murmured, rinsing out the last of the conditioner. "It's nice," he whispered, "I… I like it." _I wonder how you would react to the blow-dryer..._  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was quick learner, his fingers quickly maneuvering the buttons into place as he dressed. They had not spoken much as she worked to re-bandage him, each settling into their own thoughts. When she was finished she pulled the blanket up from the foot of the bed, hesitating over the mangled foot as the sheet drew over it. "This looks like it still hurts." She was surprised when the thought slipped past her lips, floating in the still air between them. He blinked at her, his hand slipping down to cover the injury. His gaze followed his fingers as they traced over the pocked swell of flesh. "It does." His jaw tightened, the tension of molars against their counterparts popped the ligaments to and fro under the skin.  
She had seen the reaction over and over in the ER, anger, the fear and shame on the faces of the patients that came in, dragged in by a concerned friend babbling some bullshit story about a bad fall, a clumsy door, an accidental fist-kiss. "Somebody… somebody did this to you." She said flatly, hot protective rage forming in her gut. He nodded silently, the action lingered long after the answer and she found herself struggling to keep her tone calm. "Why?". She waited long moments as his thin arms snaked across his waist; the tendons twitched as trembling hands clasped their respective elbows. "It was my punishment." He muttered, pupils dancing across the floor in zigzags. His lips curled back forming an involuntary wince as his long lashed beat down against the moisture misting at the corners of his eyes.  
"The marks on your back… those too?" His soft voice was a choked whisper, heavy with an emotion she couldn't quite specify. "Yes." Aria fought the knee-jerk rise of furious bile and as clenched her fists tight against her thighs. "What is wrong with some people… It's not right. It's not even remotely alright to do that to someone." His hollow laugh disturbed her with its' sadness. "It's never been any other way Aria." She noted the lit in his 'r' s, his accent was thicker now. It made her name break in the middle every time he said it. "People don't know how else to.." he waved his hands in front of him in a begging gesture, the words lost. "So these injuries…" she nodded at the fresh bandages "…they were punishments too?" She couldn't help the reedy note of anger slicing through her words. He flinched at the tone, shoulders rising up to cover his neck, crushing his arms into his stomach. "Something like that…I will be punished for the rest of my life for what I did."  
She waited, expecting the man to continue to no avail. He sat engrossed in memory, unable to meet her motionless gaze. She let the hot air in her chest out slowly though her nose, moving first to clasp his shoulder then letting the open hand fall between them on the bed. "No matter what you did, you don't deserve to be 'punished' like this. No one should be punished like that." The hand on the bed curled in on itself, unable to remain calm. "No one." She repeated.  
"Sometimes I think cruelty is the most universal emotion. People can just be...terrible." He trailed off, mouth twisting into wordless shapes. "Sometimes there are just… bad people." He began again, his brow knitting deeply; a vein in his forehead began to tremble. Aria studied his face, "Do you think that people are base, that they can only feel one thing at a time?" She asked, watching his expression shift from dark to alarmed. He waved his hands hurriedly, "No, no, the opposite. I don't think anyone starts off that way...just... Just it seems that cruelty is easier than fear... Or loss." He quieted, gazing down at his shaking hands through the hair covering his eyes.  
Aria nodded. I think you may be right about some people.. But I have seen some pretty amazing things come from fear and loss too... I am not sold on the idea that people are just good or bad." She gazed at his hands, cataloguing the fine length of his fingers in the back of her mind, letting the words bubble out of her without filter. "In every one of us is the ability to kill, to suffer, love, hate, mourn, galvanize and forgive. Our experiences give us occasion to choose from our abilities, they push us to the limits of our virtues, our values. Our experiences can catch us off guard and force us to react from our innermost core. So no, I don't think it's as simple as good and evil. I think there is kind and cruel, angry and cold, loving and forgiving but any combination of these things may seem "good" or "evil"." She finally paused for breath, surprised at the vehemence of her words.  
His eyes were unreadable, shadowed until he spoke, his voice quiet and thoughtful. "It seems you have seen your share of things...of people." Accepting the shift of focus she nodded, idly twisting the towel in her hands." I spent 18 months with doctors without borders right after med school…" Noticing his confused look she added "it's a program where we go to some of the poorer, most war-torn areas of the world and do our best to help...There is a lot of disease, a lot of famine." The memory of it thickened her voice, darkening her irises to the color of gunmetal.  
He nodded, gaze far away, a wry smile playing across his lips, "You would have been sent to my village." They sat in silence, absorbed in far off memory, noses twitching with recalled scent, lips pursing and pulling with the emotion stored there. Eventually Rumplestiltskin spoke "…why would you choose to go to such a place?" She flinched, hugging her arms tight "I… I was running away". She missed his visible swallow and widened eyes and continued looking at her feet. "My father had just died… I wasn't there. I was…buried in my schooling." She paused for a shaky breath, guilt etched in her pale features. "My mother blamed me for not paying enough attention, not realizing he was sick earlier, the extent of his disease. When he died, she blamed me for everything. I couldn't…I already… blamed myself. It was too much. I ran to any corner of the world where someone hurt more than I did." Her voice cracked and she fell silent again. _I needed to help anybody. I need to save everybody. I will never be able to fix enough to be forgiven._ A refugee tear escaped and slid down her angular cheek. When a warm finger reached out to catch it she nearly jerked out of her skin.  
He didn't flinch when she shifted to look at him, her eyebrows high and knitted over still shining eyes. His expression was warm, a mixture of understanding and remorse. He absentmindedly rubbed his fingers together, dissolving the tear and returned his hands to their knotted position in his lap. When he spoke, his voice was low, hoarse with unexpressed emotion, "You're not a coward."  
The phrase was simple. The words echoed and recoiled off the walls of her mind, drowning out any other thought until he spoke again. "I know you're not…"


	8. Chapter 8

**The Light From A Winter's Fire**

_Years after Rumplestiltskin's return from the war he continues to pay the price for his cowardice. In another land a woman faces her own demons. The two are brought together during a snowstorm and discover each has the power to heal old wounds._

**Chapter 8**

Aria didn't remember crawling up next to him, nor did she remember when her hand slipped into his in those lost moments between a tear and a long shaking breath. Sitting shoulder to shoulder they listened to the others' mind grinding away. His scent was etched into the pillows; it was earthy, like fresh wood pulp with lingering notes of musky spice. She turned to look at the man absentmindedly rubbing the skin on her knuckles as he concentrated on the empty space in the room. The spell was broken with his voice, rough and breathy, "You smell like wildflowers… you always smell like the last wildflowers before winter." She accepted the comment with a dip of her chin, her gaze traveling across his face, down to the tendon working in his neck and back, to the lips slightly parted, waiting for the words to come.  
"…Rumplestiltskin, who are you…in your world?" He sagged a bit, dropping her hand and reaching for his own. "What happened to you?" Aria felt her fragile composure slip briefly his hair fell across his face "Please-" her words fell away as he finally met her eyes. Anguish shone in hot bright flickers, his fearful heart reflected in the darkest parts of the iris. A lifetime of suffering and shame burned at the edges of his stare, deepening the lines on his fine-boned features. He cocked his head to the side, lips trembling as he struggled for control. Aria watched, mesmerized by his tempest of emotions. _He looks like a terrified child…_ Her fingers twitched with the urge to stroke his face, to smooth out the lines multiplying on his forehead. Licking his bitten lips he ventured forth with quivering speech.  
"There was a war…with the ogres." He drew another ragged breath and blinked rapidly, pupils darting all over the blanket at his feet. "I was a boy when it began, the youngest of three. My father was the village spinner." He flinched when she turned towards him. "When the war came to our lands everything changed. First they took the men of my village, promising them rewards for their loyalty to the duke and the cause. They volunteered and left their families…then when none of them returned their sons went...eventually none volunteered and the duke's men came to take any "able bodied" they could find... My mother died in childbirth." His fingers steeled on his chest, unconsciously indicating his role in the matter. "My eldest brother Lukas managed to apprentice himself to a clerk, so it was just my brother Matthias and I when it started… Matthias was 16, I was 12." He stopped, lost in thought as the first tear escaped the flutter of his lashes. "My father never returned, so Lukas came to raise us. He taught us to read and write. He hoped to smuggle us into the city, enter us into the clerics' monastery. ..He told us of the horrors on the front…such a pacifist." Aria slipped her arm around his thin shoulders as he swallowed loudly, shaking his head. "Matthias was eager to avenge our father and uncles. He was disgusted with Lukas for "hiding" in his career, with me for wanting it to just be over. When they came for us, Lukas tried to hide us… Matthias gave us away and they took all of us."  
Aria was dumbfounded. "How old were you by then? You couldn't have been more than a teenager." He nodded, "14, I was 14 by then." She hissed and did her best not to raise her voice "That's insane. That is completely insane. How could they do that? How could they take children?" His voice was flat, "It was the beginning of the punishment for trying to hide." He let out a long breath and let the curtain of hair fall across his angular face. "When the punishments ended, Lukas was made to be the duke's manservant on the frontlines; Matthias and I were sent to the front with others from our village. We survived for a year there, in trenches and forests, watching our playmates get slaughtered until there were few of us left."  
His face was wet and twisted in a grimace of anguish; his words broke as he covered his mouth with his long nervous fingers. "By then I had realized what a truly useless horror war was. Every moment there made my stomach turn, my heart always felt as if it would never stop pounding. "He licked his lips nervously, continuing. "My brother Matthias had become unrecognizable to me. He, he enjoyed it, he actually wanted to be a part of the bloodshed…he found glory in every death." He spat every word, bitterness imbued every emphasis. "We eventually were more like strangers than brothers... to him I was weak… disgusting…embarrassing." He ignored Arias shaking head and open mouth. "We received word that Lukas had been traded to the Ogres in a failed negotiation. The stories about his death were…" He choked on the word and tried again. "…horrible."  
"My brother and I were relocated to a city on the edge of the borderlands. Matthias joined the front guard, I was a watchman…" She stroked the back of his neck, smoothing the hair as he fell quiet for a few moments. "What happened next?" she prompted quietly, something telling her that the man had never spoken of his story to any other living being.  
"Oh Aria," His voice was a raw whisper, "I can't ever be forgiven for what happened next...I…I was on night watch when they came. The ogres…They crashed through the barricades and mean like they were water. I stood there on the platform, watching as they laid waste to the front lines, the guards… my brother." His eyes squeezed shut and it was a full minute before he continued. "I knew then that nothing, no one would be left in the city when they were through…but...I ….I ran, oh Gods how I ran" He buried his face in his hands, coming undone at the memory. "I didn't cry out, I didn't alert the city, I didn't sound the alarm. I did nothing. .ran….I was out of my head with fear. The only thing I could see was the blood, so much blood as they tore my brother apart…so much blood...I couldn't I couldn't…."  
Rumplestilskin collapsed into racking sobs. "I just ran away. They came and the city wasn't ready for them, because I ran. They were slaughtered, like so many cattle, because I didn't warn them. It's my fault...It's my fault…" His words became incomprehensible as he wept. He gulped air and struggled on, "Hundreds died that night, they fled to the forests…They found me there. They knew I was responsible for the deaths of their children, their wives, husbands...mothers…The remainder of our army came for me then. They punished me with whips, sticks, their bare hands and then…" Aria pulled away, realizing the man was shaking, trembling with the recollection as he drew his knees up to his chest protectively. "Then they left me there with the villagers, to punish me as they saw fit. They didn't step in... No matter what they did…what they broke, how I screamed…they…" His haunted trance was broken as she gasped, tears streaming down her face. He hands were shaking as she reached out for him. "Your leg? Rumplestiltskin…did they?  
He nodded agape at the strength of her reaction. Confusion wrestled with fear in his wide brown eyes as he wordlessly leaned into her, cautiously resting his weight on her shoulder. Her hands on his back seemed to release deeper emotions as he collapsed in on himself, sounds of pure anguish tearing forth from his heaving chest. Aria held him in a crushing grip at first, relaxing as the waves of emotion subsided into quiet keening, muttering nonsense into his fine hair. After long minutes he pulled away, suddenly over-conscious of their proximity. She did not move, still rubbing small circles in his back. "… Did you ever get to go home?" He nodded again, dragging his hands across his flushed cheeks.  
"I was 16 when I returned to my village. It was winter then, I was a cripple, a coward, and the only spinner left. Before I had been taken I was paired with a girl who was to be my wife, as was the custom…but when I returned…" He watched her from under heavy lids, gazing sideways in his disgrace. "When I returned she did not want me, she knew what I had done, they all did. They made us marry anyway...but…she just couldn't abide being the coward's wife. She drowned herself in the spring." His words were hoarse, tears threatened to leak again from his eyes. "I've been alone ever since…No one will speak to me, not with kind words, not even neutral words…no one will buy from me so I have to travel to the next town to sell…" He waved his hands in a futile motion, self-loathing evident in his expression. Humiliation tinged his ears and neck bright crimson as he sputtered, unable to meet her eyes. "I…I'm so sorry Aria. Gods know I am so, so sorry….Because of me, the war wages on. Because of my cowardice the Ogres took the city, it gave them the foothold they needed to turn the tide of the war. Because of me the children of my village continue to die…and I can never...never be forgiven…."  
Aria stared, unable to process the entirety of the story. Flashes of child soldiers, ravages of war, and the sobbing of mothers tugged at her consciousness. The man before her had crumbled, curled into a ball, waiting silently for her judgment, expecting nothing less than derision. Empathy for a life of guilt and pain pooled with the rage at the man's maltreatment by his peers. Her gaze traveled distractedly to the mangled leg, his scarred arms, back to the anxious face, over-worn with fear, guilt, and worry. Her words refused to come as she looked on, dumbfounded by the cruelty this man had been exposed to, the gentleness he retained despite. He fidgeted, clearly suffering in the silence still waiting for her wrath, his long fingers instinctively curled up around his neck as he ducked his head into his shoulders. He cringed when she spoke, a whimper escaping before he could stop the noise.  
"Rumplestiltskin…I forgive you. I forgive you and I accept what you did as human. I forgive you." She was not prepared for the torrential downpour of tears that followed her whisper. A new noise joined his weeping somewhere between a sigh and a gasp. It echoed in her chest and she could not help but cup his face in her hands, brushing the tears away first with her thumbs, then her lips. His soft cry of surprise was met with her mouth. Gentle, tentative she brushed her lips against his, stopping only to press her forehead to his. Her hands brushed through his hair before returning to sweep the tears from his cheekbones. His arms encircled her waist, hesitant. He searched her face with pleading eyes, disbelief crinkling the corners of their mahogany gaze. She stopped, sharing breath with him as he stared, still hesitating. His fingers traced shapes into the small of her back and he finally leaned in, surprising her with his intensity. He hung on her lips as if he would drown without them, devouring her mouth with desperate passion. The pressure of her hand on his shoulder blade moved him to softer movement, gently sucking at her top lip as she opened her mouth to his. A shared moan reverberated between them as she gently bit his lip, taking it in to open his mouth to her. He tasted of salt, nutty with the hint of spice from the apple butter they had snacked on earlier. His tongue explored her, searching every space, desperate to taste every atom. They pulled away, breathless. He reached up to touch her face, expression unreadable, eyes bright with emotion. She nodded, covering the hand with her own. _Sometimes there just aren't words…Rumplestiltskin.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_


	9. Chapter 9

**The Light From A Winter's Fire**

_Years after Rumplestiltskin's return from the war he continues to pay the price for his cowardice. In another land a woman faces her own demons. The two are brought together during a snowstorm and discover each has the power to heal old wounds._

**Chapter 9**

They didn't speak for an hour, content to lie entwined under the heavy quilt. His taste lingered on her lips, as she licked them from time to time, savoring the shock of "other" every time her tongue passed. He stared at the wall, his feet, the fire at the end of the room, his nervous fingers absentmindedly tracing lines up and down her arm. Occasionally one of them would squeeze, faintly leaning into the other, unable to make sense of things, unable to meet the gaze. Lost in thought, the time passed as the quiet pulled them into soft slumber; the embers watched as two worn souls rested for the first time in years.  
~~~~~

Aria stirred in the chill of twighlight, starting at first at the quiet rumble of air escaping from lips beside her, then bending down to graze his forehead with her lips. _What now?_ She had never been much for relationships. Driven, high-strung and academic, she rarely lent her patience or energy to the maintenance of another's place in her life. She preferred the comfort of distance, trysts with no strings, lovemaking doomed to end after a few months, fraught with conflict and feverent resolutions. As the frustration of her partner grew, she would bury herself in books and work, letting him find solace in another, nodding coolly as he would confess his desertion, turning away with resignation, relieved. _This is not one of those. _She took in the figure beside her; her gaze traveled along his thin form, taking in the jutting shapes of his wide shoulders, his long fingers still resting on her hip, his legs tucked together, afraid to travel too far without their mate. His face was smooth, slack in oblivion with his fine hair framing the angular cheekbones holding up thick dark lashes keeping the darkness at bay. _Can a man be beautiful?_ She was taken aback by his inability to demand anything from her, his gentle acceptance of conflict. Beneath the fear, the pain, and the shame, there was a calm that lived only in those that had truly learned to expect nothing from others, and appreciate the crumbs that life had left for them. _All of that loss, that ugliness and he still is…just a man. How do you let it wash over you, Rumplestiltskin?_  
As if in answer to her thoughts he stirred, moaning softly as stiff and numb limbs shifted from their waiting positions. He stiffened as his hand registered the shape beneath it, pulling back from her with a sharp inhalation. Aria could make out the dark almond shapes of his eyes in the fading light, searching her for rejection, answers, anything. "Not a dream then…?" he whispered, his fingers curled around the covers, clenching and relaxing as his emotions fought for organization. _I don't remember the last time I cuddled with someone._ Aria felt a pang of emptiness at the realization that it had been years. "No," she sat up, suddenly feeling awkward beside him. "No, not a dream." She shifted her weight towards the edge of the bed. He drew away from her, pulling himself upright. "It….it's been…I can't remember the last time I … I kissed someone." Watching her movements away from him he ducked his head, letting the curtain of hair fall across his face as he continued "I'm… I'm sorry". Electricity snaked down her spine at the hollow acceptance in her voice. _Oh God he thinks it's him. You fool. You dammed fool, he thinks he's done something wrong. _She turned back towards him, her words of explanation failing her. _We are two peas in a pod, Rumplestiltskin._ She sighed, shaking her head and letting a small smile escape her lips she reached out to him. "I'm not." The hope and mystification in his expression was enough to melt the frost forming along the windows. "I…It's been a long time for me too." She didn't know what else to say, afraid to commit anything to the refugee making his way into her life, her heart beating like a frightened bird against her chest. _How could this change so much?_ A long-forgotton song wormed it's way into her head as she lost her train of thought again "_What a difference a day makes….twenty four, little hours….."_


	10. Chapter 10

**The Light From A Winter's Fire**

_Years after Rumplestiltskin's return from the war he continues to pay the price for his cowardice. In another land a woman faces her own demons. The two are brought together during a snowstorm and discover each has the power to heal old wounds._

**Chapter 10**

Aria stayed still, pretending to fall asleep until she heard the quiet drone of his breath fall even. Gingerly, she slid out from between his arms, a smile tugging at her mouth as me murmured something incoherent and rolled over.  
They had stayed in bed the entire day, letting the conversation drift as timid fingers traced across feather hairs on arms, faces, bellies. Rumplestiltskin told her about the wildflowers he would harvest to dye his wool, she told him about hunting for good vinyl in an age where it was considered archaic. "Why do they call them 'records'?" He had asked, clearly wrestling with the idea of electronic music on demand…."wouldn't everything that is... recorded…a record? Even books?" She couldn't answer him right away, she mesmerized by his long fingers waving in the air as he postulated.  
"It's a record of music being played… they don't call it that anymore… now it is just assumed." _Note to self. Indroduce Rumplestiltskin to the Beatles._ "You'll just have to hear it for yourself, Rumplestiltskin." His hands stopped their path up her forearm, "I truly can't imagine…" he murmured, staring out at the darkness.

She watched him now as a cat watches a street below, losing herself in the details of his face, the expressions passing as he dreamed, mind churning, twitching with information. _What now? _It kept scratching at her. _What now? What does it mean to him, where he comes from? Oh God… we're not like... married now or something…_ her guts clenched at the prospects of cultural misinterpretation. Aria shook her head, hoping to manually disperse the snowballing though process and got out of the bed, fumbling for a match and new candle. _Just be cool, kid. Life continues like normal…. Ffffffffff normal._ "Normal my ass," she muttered as the candle sprang to life. "I just spent the day necking with a man from the dark ages….". Horatio whuffed softly as she padded past his outstretched form. "Cmon boy, let's get the fires going again."

_Alright , when he wakes up, act casual… no biggie….just…your average, casual, all-day make-out session…it's what people do right? _She was brought back to reality as the hot liquid sloshed over the side of the pot she was madly stirring. "dammit". Her mind tugged at her attention, leading her back towards the feeling of lips on her collarbone, light finger strokes down her sides…._You are NOT sleeping with some guy that magically appeared in your front yard. Repeat NOT. You are not that desperate._ Aria nodded to herself and she ladled the beans into a bowl. Her logical mind began pulling up catalogues of diseases transmitted through sexual contact. ..only to be overpowered by a sudden insatiable curiosity to know if they had circumcision in his world. _Stop it. Stop right there._ She nodded again, wrestling the Pandora's box of questions back into submission. _I need to go..read a book, or take a cold shower or…something, Geezus.  
_ As if in answer, a series of loud pops and whirrs announced the return of the power. _Thank God. The last thing I needed was more mood lighting._


End file.
